


Guilty Until Proven Innocent

by valiantblueknight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (But later on), Casteism, Dragons, F/M, Implied/Referenced Slavery, Jail Shenanigans, Multi, Not all of those charas are included, Some are going to come later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 09:13:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11483277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiantblueknight/pseuds/valiantblueknight
Summary: The ceiling is a very boring thing to be staring at. As far as things to stare at go, the ceiling is not usually anywhere near the top of his list. But, considering his options for viewing things at the moment are much more limited, (the ceiling, the floor, the walls, all the creeps in other cells, and the night sky through the single barred window in his cell), it’ll have to do. At least it gives him something to look at while he thinks about how the hell he got into this situation.Somehow, out of all the things he could be rightfully arrested for, he was locked up by mistake. For something he didn’t do. Isn't that just his luck.





	Guilty Until Proven Innocent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LupaDracolis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupaDracolis/gifts).



The ceiling is a very boring thing to be staring at. As far as things to stare at go, the ceiling is not usually anywhere near the top of his list. But, considering his options for viewing things at the moment are much more limited, (the ceiling, the floor, the walls, all the creeps in other cells, and the night sky through the single barred window in his cell), it’ll have to do. At least it gives him something to look at while he thinks about how the hell he got into this situation.   
  
A few nights ago, he was suddenly accosted, just a few blocks away from where he and his friends were staying, and he thought for sure he was going to be subjected to a wide variety of horrors, made to expose where his most illegal of friends were located. He had put up a fight, but it wasn’t long before psionic blocking cuffs were shoved onto his horns, completely blocking his ability to do what he does best.   
  
And, of fucking course, putting up a fight makes someone appear guilty, even if they didn’t do anything wrong. As, it turns out, was the case here. Somehow, out of all the things he could be rightfully arrested for, he was locked up by mistake. For something he didn’t do.    
  
He tries, again, to flare up psionics, and meets the brick wall that is the cuffs. Again. He fidgets, tries to make sure none of his skin is touching the rough stone ground, glances balefully at the cot made of even rougher material that made him too overstimulated to think hours ago. He tries to ignore all the noises of all the other fuckheads in all the other cells, and tries not to think about the fact that, right or wrong, he’s very likely to die for ‘his’ crimes. He’s got no chance, an ochre blood, a _pissblood_  against the state is doomed.   
  
And then, out of nowhere, comes the sound of whispering close by. “ _Psst!!_ ” ... Ears twitch and flick as he looks that direction with the listless lack of caring that depression usually gives him, before dualchrome eyes widen in surprise at the sight of Meulin. “ _PSST_!” she whispers louder, then beams at him when she notices him looking. “I’m going to get mew out!” she exclaims in something only slightly quieter than a stage whisper, with all the confidence she usually holds.    
  
“Don’t fucking bother,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re just going to get in trouble anyway.”    
  
“And since when has that stopped me from doing anything?”    
  
“Since I just fucking TOLD YOU--”   
  
“Sir?” comes a voice from the other side of the bars, which is quickly followed by the sound of a body thumping to the ground and a muffled ‘ow’ from the window.    
  
He swivels his head to the person on the other side of the cell door, to see a woman with sharp red glasses and a no nonsense expression. She has a clipboard and a file with his name on it, as well as the symbol of his previous owner. " _Fuck_ " he whispers to himself, softly but emphatically. This cannot be good.   
  
\----   
  
She can't believe she got stuck with this case. It's open and shut, and what's more, there's almost no judge who would bother to care if judgement was miscarried for the sake of a goldblood ex slave. Even still, she has to give this her best shot. That, at least, is what she's thinking when she hears her client talking to the window. That isn't suspicious at all...   
  
And then she catches sight of the goldblood in question. It's been almost two sweeps since she saw him last, but she'd recognize him anywhere. More importantly, she remembers his companions. The Signless, the Preacher, the Mutant. She remembers his speech about justice and fairness, and how it made her feel. She starts to feel excited, a bit awestruck even, for a moment. She could defend a good man's defender and friend. And then, the lowblood _yells_  at his companion through the bars and she feels her heart drop a bit. Goddamnit, this is still a hard case, and this isn't going to make things any easier.    
  
"Sir?" her raspy voice sounds out, reminding him of just where he is. A bit... out of character, considering the disparity between their castes, but not, overall, too hard to believe. Formality isn't uncommon among the law.    
  
His face turns a pallid grey, and he turns towards her with wide eyes. "Fuck," he says, and she pretends she doesn't hear it. She also pretends to not hear the loud thunk coming from just outside the window.   
  
"We need to go over your case."    
  
"What, and waste what time I have left alive, not a slave, and in a very cushy jail cell?" The sound of his teeth clicking together loudly is a bit distracting, and she's really glad it wasn't him doing the speech she heard.   
  
"Well, did you do it?"   
  
"No," he says sullenly.    
  
"Then it's not a waste of time trying to prove you're innocent, is it?"    
  
"Wow, how old _are_  you? Fucking nine? Eight? That's not how the world _works_."   
  
A soft sigh from her, just a bit annoyed. "It's worth a shot at least, what else are you going to do? Talk to the moons some more?" A brow raises above red shades and she grins just a little. His ears pin for a moment, guiltily, before he bares his teeth a bit.   
  
"Why, yes, that's EXACTLY what I'll do." He turns back to the barred windows. "Where was I? Oh yes, I was talking about how _annoying_  tealbloods in particular are, and how satisfying it is being in an empty room without a creaky voice bothering the fuck out of me, as if she thinks I'll care."   
  
Faintly, beyond the walls, she hears the faintest sound of smothered giggles.   
  
It's going to be a long night.   
  
\----   
  
This is so much less boring than staring at a ceiling. Bitching at someone has a tendency to make him feel a little better, even if it isn't fair, and even if it never picks up his mood completely. He starts by insulting the very idea that she'd actually help him. All the while, she just stands there, tapping her clicky heels on the ground and waiting for him to run out of insults. Ha, as if.    
  
"Not to mention how gods awful it is to see red on teal. Talk about fake edgy. And how fucking stupid are pointy colored shades?"   
  
And so the insults continue for a while, about her fashion sense, about her hair, ‘DID HER LUSUS CHEW ON IT TO CUT IT?’ until finally she turns around without a word and walks down the hall, boots clicking the whole way.   
  
Victory.    
  
And then, a few seconds later, disappointment and boredom. Really, that’s all it took? That’s all that needed to happen, for her to just disappear? He tries not to feel like hope just vanished, hope that he was almost building up just a bit. That’s stupid, this is exactly what should have happened in the first place, she was only prolonging the inevitable.   
  
A few seconds of silence pass, and he finally speaks again, still towards the window. “You still out there?”    
  
Silence. Goddamnit.    
  
\----   
  
He doesn’t know how long passed, thinking morbid thoughts, staring at the stars, and wishing he had someone to even sort of talk to. But the sound of clacking heels breaks him out of his own pan. He looks over.    
  
And there she is, striding up to the cell door and unlocking it, walking in. She tosses the key back into the hallway and closes the door behind her. He stares at her incredulously, then tries to quickly rise to his feet, wanting to be able to put up at least a little bit of a fight, even with the psionic cuffs weighing down one horn and all of his powers.   
  
She ends that, though, when she sits down, placing her cane behind her and then her hands in front of her.    
  
He stares at her for a long moment, mostly raised but definitely not fight ready. “... You really are stupid.”    
  
“I want justice,” she says softly, looking up at him. There’s a hint of challenge in her teal eyes, just barely visible from this angle over her glasses.    
  
“That’s not really the type of world we live in, princess,” he spits back, spitefully.   
  
“You’d think someone with such an idealistic companion would be more hopeful,” she returns in those same soft but nasally tones, not looking away from his dualchrome eyes for a moment. He feels himself go pale, scowl harshly, his face twisting to make already prominent teeth bare in a grimace.    
  
“ _I want justice_. And if I wanted to out you before now, I would have. Instead, I want to hear what you’ve got to say.”    
  
His own ears flick as he listens to her, and he steadily goes from tense to relaxed. “You know this is hopeless either way, right? Even if you mean what you say, which I _doubt_.” He does doubt. But not as much as his words imply.    
  
“You were entertained before. And bored out of your skull, before that. Either this will be a decent distraction, or it’ll be something actually worth doing. All you need to do is answer a couple questions, and I’ll make sure you’re not so bored again.”    
  
“..... Fine. You have the night to convince me.” He slowly sinks to his knees. She gives him a toothy, smug grin.    
  
The next hour is spent ‘reviewing his case’. Her smug grin goes away pretty quickly, and it turns out that what they have is sparse and will be hard to legally corroborate, and what they don’t have is a snowball’s chance in hell. She still has the determined look in her eye, but her lips press closer together the more frustrated she gets, until all of her movements are sharp and all the lines on her face jut at harsher angles to each other.   
  
Even still, when she finally leaves to do more research, saying she’ll be back later, he believes her. Even if he doesn’t believe in the system he got stuck in, he at least believes she wants what she says she wants.    
  
And he sure as fuck isn’t so bored anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of ran headfirst into the deadline, so I could only fill the first part of the fic. But there will be additional chapters, I've got them planned out and everything! Happy polyswap, lupadracolis! I hope you like it so far.
> 
> Things to expect: More Disciple. Signless existing at all. Signless ranting. JUSTICE. Law breaking >;] Bad pitch flirting. Psiioniic getting his ass handed to him. A dragon.


End file.
